The Last Voice
They closed my mother's casket
to be buried next to Dad today.
The crowd that came to honor her
began to walk away.
Nothing left but tiny breeze
a cold and lonely final stare,
and I her dear beloved son
just standing there,
just standing there.
I'm left with only shadows
and whispers in my mind,
as though it never happened
a stage of pantomimes.
A faded mist uncaptured
has evaporated all too quick,
like fruit attacked by fire blight
and I the striving stick.
Thought to be a stone at last
is now a simple ball of clay,
the meaning of my life
now washed away.
Washed away.
What now I sigh with fading eyes
I search for new beginnings,
but deep inside the voice will chide
Thus begins the ending.
Thus begins the ending.
Copyright © Lynward Mckee | Year Posted 2018
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